


a dare and a truth...

by startswithhope



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Camping, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Sharing a Bed, Truth or Dare, actually truck bed sharing, but you get the idea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 04:57:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10072883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startswithhope/pseuds/startswithhope
Summary: Bed sharing prompt: “Would you please get comfortable and go the fuck to sleep already?”





	

A warm breeze ruffles the wheat stalks on either side of her truck as she folds her arms beneath her head, smiling up towards the starry night that will be her blanket until dawn. Her friends had thought this a good dare, forgetting that she’s slept in much scarier places where real danger lurked in very real shadows. A night spent alone out here is a piece of cake, no matter how many stupid campfire tales of demonic scarecrows or sickle-wielding serial killers they might have spun.

She’s surprisingly comfortable in the bed of her truck, thanks to the thick pile of blankets beneath her and the lingering buzz of rum from too many pulls of Killian’s flask. Her cheeks warm at the thought of him, the constant will they or won’t they like a rubber band deciding if it wants to pull them together or break from the pressure. It’s easier to want the former when she’s alone and the idea of him can be just a fantasy without the real life implications of what being together might actually entail. Caustic flirting used to be their thing, but she’s sensed a shift, more sincerity and a longing in him that mirrors her own in ways that has her running a bit scared.

Yeah, she’s not scared of serial killers or movie monsters, but Killian Jones, he has the ability to absolutely terrify her.

A rustling too strong to have been caused by the wind catches her attention and she leans up onto her elbows, scanning the fields for what is probably just a crow set out to disturb her solitude. There’s nothing to be seen in the darkness and she’s too lazy to dig out the flashlight buried somewhere in the cab of her truck to go on a search…

“Evening, Swan.”

A scream bubbles up her throat as she’s scrambling to her knees, hands blindly searching for something to grab as a weapon as her brain slowly matches the voice to the unexpected intruder somewhere behind her.

“Fuck! Killian…what the hell?”

Killian saunters around the front of her truck, both hands in the air in supplication as he approaches.

“Sorry, sorry, I should have called out when I was getting closer so you’d know it was me.”

Her heart is racing out of her chest, both from being startled and his presence, but she does her best to calm her breathing the closer he gets.

“You think so? Jesus. You’re lucky I didn’t bring my gun.”

He laughs at that and rakes his right hand through his hair, letting his scarred one fall back to his side before it disappears deep in the front pocket of his jeans. Her heart does a familiar pang at that little vulnerability, the way he tries to hide his scars just as she does hers. They’ve spoken of his loss, not just of the use of his left hand, but of his first love in a car accident years ago, leaving him alone in ways she can’t help but understand. Loneliness for her left scars that no one can see, but she feels, in the walls she’s built up around her fragile heart.

But then, his expressive eyebrow is arching as he leans his hip with purpose against the truck by her hand and she’s pulled from her inner musings and back to the present, where those walls are feeling shakier and shakier by the moment.

“You wouldn’t shoot me, Swan.”

_Wanna bet?_

“Whatever. What the hell are you doing out here?”

“What, not happy to see me?”

Yes. No. _Yes?_

Letting out a frustrated sigh, she shifts off her knees so she can lean against the back window of her truck and crosses her arms over her chest to wait for him to actually answer her question. His head cocks a bit to the side and she keeps her expression blank, a difficulty as the moonlight illuminates his stupidly handsome face as his lips curl into a stupidly adorable smile.

“I was dared to come out here and keep you company, love. I think Regina was hoping you would, in fact, have your gun and she’d finally be rid of my obnoxious arse.”

She can’t help but laugh at that, knowing it isn’t _really_  true, even if Regina and Killian interact as well as oil and water set on fire.

“Sorry to disappoint her…wait, what are you doing?”

Killian has one foot up on the back bumper of her truck and he’s poised to hoist himself up, but he freezes and looks up and meets her gaze.

“Joining you, I hoped…uh….thought…? Would you prefer I sleep down here on the grass?”

Fuck. She can’t tell him that yes, she wants, no… _needs_  him to sleep on the grass because having him sleep next to her in the bed of this truck all night is definitely more than she can handle.

“Fine, come on up. But if you snore, it’ll be the grass for you, buddy.”

The truck creaks with the added weight as he climbs in beside her, the brush of his arm against hers as he leans back against the window sending sparks along her skin. Clenching her fingertips against her thigh she looks away and out into the fields, matching her breaths to the sway of the wheat as her entire body comes alive at his proximity.

“It’s quite peaceful out here, isn’t it, Swan?”

It _was_.

“Yeah…”

Silence falls between them for a minute or so and she summons the courage to look over at him beside her. His head is resting against the worn blue metal of the hood of her truck and his eyes are directed at the sky, his lips pressed tight as if he’s holding himself back from speaking.

She wants to say something, ask what’s on his mind, but she’s a bit afraid of what that might be. His head shifts to the right and she finds herself looking directly into his eyes, the darkness doing little to hide the questions lurking in the blue depths. She keeps the connection a beat longer than she knows she should before turning away and scooting downwards so she can lie down on her side of the truck. Even with her eyes once again trained on the stars, she can feel the heat of his gaze prickling along her skin. Closing her eyes, she lets out a long breath through her nose, anxiety and attraction in a fierce battle as she waits for him to stretch out beside her.

When he does, he manages to shake the entire bed of the truck as he rolls this way and that, seemingly unable to find a comfortable position. He ends up on his back, his arm just barely touching hers with his legs bent at the knees. He lets out a frustrated sounding sigh and is still for a moment, but soon she feels the truck rock again as his legs fall flat.

“Would you please get comfortable and go the fuck to sleep already?”

“Sorry, love, my legs are too long. I’ll be settled in just another moment.”

Knowing he’ll really only fit if he turns on his side and bends his knees, she turns first, putting her back to him and giving him the room to follow suit. He catches on quickly, this connection they have constantly finding them in sync in odd moments such as this. As his breath begins to caress the back of her neck and the sounds of the creaking truck gives over once again to the sway of the wheat, she finds herself wondering just why if they seem to fit together so well does she continue to push him away?

She knows why, but dammit, she’s fucking tired of it.

Reaching behind her back she blindly searches for his arm, grabbing his wrist and dragging it over her waist as she scoots her back up to align with his chest. A shiver takes a ride up her spine as he exhales her name in surprise against her hair and she weaves her fingers over and through his where they are tentatively resting on her belly. It’s only in that moment that she realizes she’s grabbed his scarred hand, the puckered skin beneath her palm smooth to the touch. She presses down a bit harder at his slight flinch, letting him know that it doesn’t bother her in the least. It’s interesting, actually, that her need to give him reassurance managed to calm her own nervousness at making such a bold move.

“Emma?”

“Shhh, let’s just sleep, okay?”

He shifts behind her and she lifts her head, letting him slide his other arm beneath her neck as he tucks his knees into hers and settles his groin against her backside.

“As you wish…”

She isn’t really comfortable, not with all of the blood in her body rushing to her cheeks and everywhere they are touching burning as if she’s standing too close to a bonfire. It doesn’t help that his body is pulled taut behind her, seemingly poised to pull away as if he fully expects to be pushed. So she does, but just with her back, keeping a hand on his arm at her waist as she’s the one to rock the truck this time in her effort to turn towards him. They end up face to face, albeit a bit tangled, and she slowly reaches her hand up and curls it around his neck.

He’s on the verge of speaking when her mouth steals the question from his lips. It only takes him about two seconds to respond, his scarred hand gripping hard at her waist as a shaking breath parts his lips for her tongue. He tastes of marshmallows and rum, the sweet and spicy combination so intoxicating she doesn’t hesitate when his hand cushions her neck as he rolls her to her back. The kiss goes off the rails a bit after that as almost a year of tension breaks and it’s all hands and lips and hot breaths against oversensitive skin.

As she lifts her hips up to press against his thigh that has settled between her legs, his mouth suddenly pulls back and out of reach.

“Emma?”

“Shh…just kiss me.”

No “as you wish” this time, just compliance in the form of a kiss that manages to steal what was left of her breath. They kiss until her lips are sore and the skin of her chin and throat are raw from the coarseness of his beard. They kiss until the sky begins to lighten from the morning sun and they’ve rolled from one side of the truck to the other and back again. It never moves beyond that, well, their clothes stay on at least. But it’s enough. It’s perfect.

Even if they the only words spoken have been each other’s names and a few laughs (and maybe a few moans), it feels as though entire conversations have happened with the slide of their lips and the curl of their tongues. So, it doesn’t feel strange when he pulls her tight against his chest and her leg drapes over his knee and they both fall asleep to the sound of the waking crows.

* * *

“So that’s where Killian went off to. Regina was so annoyed that he ducked out of the game…”

Ruby grabs Mary Margaret’s arm and pulls her away from the truck before they wake the sleeping beauties inside.

“MM, not only is he in the game, I think he’s finally gotten on base.”


End file.
